Bad Vibrations
by WinTTY
Summary: Max and Chloe escape the destruction of Arcadia Bay. Part I of the Choice series.


When it's all over, the storm and the carnage that followed, Chloe is the first one to wake.

Minutes later the old, rusty bucket of a truck rolls out of the forested path and onto the asphalt road, jolting forward to the left, towards the town - Arcadia.

What remains of it anyway.

Somewhere along the line Max wakes up. She doesn't say anything, doesn't move except for the subtle head roll she does to the side to plaster her face against the window.

Arcadia was always a wreck according to Chloe, except now it actually resembled one.

Scattered debris, upturned cars, whale carcasses, torn buildings - everything is _gone._

Max watches as Chloe gets out of the truck twice to move things out of the way, the second time taking longer than the last as she stands there, arms on her hips and head dropped down. When she jumps back in, she doesn't say anything and neither does Max.

Again the truck moves forward and again they sit in silence, the cabin filled with nothing but the sounds of the sputtering engine.

Chloe intentionally takes the long way around - not because she wants to see the destruction, the remnants of her hometown that she had metaphorically wanted to drop a bomb on - no. She takes the long way around to avoid the Two Whales.

She doesn't want to know.

When they reach the outskirts, the truck rolls to a stop.

What now?

A sideways glance towards Max tells Chloe all she needs to know about the state of her best friend. She reaches over, rubs her hand over her shoulder and manages a smile - a broken, pitiful smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Max looks over and does her best to return the expression, briefly catching a reflection of pain in Chloe's eyes. She can't. She looks away and resumes her almost lifeless stare towards nothing but the thousandth yard.

Chloe sighs, kicks the truck forward and drives them out of there.

. . .

An hour later they find themselves passing a FEMA convoy outside Portland.

"You're late assholes," Chloe mumbles as she stares at the passing trucks being escorted by the national guard.

Max stays silent and continues to look ahead, mind as blank as her eyes.

Chloe looks at her again but doesn't say anything. Her hand fumbles with the dials of her radio as she seeks solace in music. After a few seconds she gives up and resumes her gaze on the road ahead.

Static.

It continues for a few minutes.

Eventually Max moves forward and turns the radio off.

"Max-"

"I don't want to hear it Chloe," she replies and looks away again.

Chloe stays silent.

. . .

"No."

Chloe looks at her as they pass the signs. "What?"

"No, Chloe, not there-"

"Max, your parents-"

"No!" she speaks with a raised voice. "Not there."

Her grip hard on the steering wheel, Chloe watches as her knuckles turn white with strain, holding herself back from an outburst that she knows Max doesn't need right now.

"Where then?" she asks eventually as the truck moves along slowly on the interstate, cars passing them by on either side. "Where?"

"Not there," she repeats and looks away.

Chloe looks at her and opens her mouth to comment. She stops. Chloe looks away, sighs and pulls the truck off the interstate at the next ramp.

. . .

"I need sleep."

"Find a motel then."

She does. It's a dingy little thing just off the interstate, the 'Vacancy' sign barely glowing in the dark after decades of use.

Their room is small, wallpaper yellowed and dirty with stains of _something._

"Eugh," Chloe shakes her head as she checks out their accommodation for the night. "You'd think somebody had been killed in here."

Max looks at Chloe briefly and collapses on the bed, face in the pillow.

Chloe stares at her friend, mouth open yet again as she wants to speak, wants to say something to her but she has no words.

What do you say to somebody responsible for killing so many because of some fucked up circumstance?

 _No,_ she thinks and shakes her head. _Max is not fucking responsible. Fuck. That._

In the back of her head she thinks she's lying to herself to feel better about it all.

She lies down next to Max and falls asleep staring at the ceiling.

. . .

"I'm fine mom."

Chloe takes a drag of her cigarette as she listens to Max speaking with her parents.

"No, I'm not... I'm not going to Seattle," she mumbles into the phone. "It's exactly what it sounds like mom. I… I'm with Chloe, we're fine, we're safe."

Are they?

"I don't know, okay? I don't know how some f-fucked up storm just came out of nowhere and wiped out an entire town. I don't fucking know." Max sighs and rubs her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, it's just… stressful."

Stressful is putting it lightly.

"Mom - I. Don't. Know. Okay? I just don't. We're going… somewhere. I need time. Please?"

Chloe looks at Max, the brunette looking back with a weak smile and a bite of her lip as she listens.

"I'll call you later, okay? I promise to stay safe, I'm with Chloe, it's okay."

Staying with Chloe was anything but safe. How many times had she died in the past week? Three? Four?

"Yeah, I love you too. Say hi to dad for me? Bye," she finishes and disconnects the call.

"Well?" Chloe asks and discards her cigarette. "How's the homefront?"

"They're… worried. I think my mom understands that I need time alone, low key think that my dad persuaded her to let me go," she mumbles and leans against the truck, looking ahead.

"So… what now?"

Max shrugs. "I don't know."

Chloe sighs and leans on the truck herself. "Are you-"

"I'm fine!" Max blurts out and closes her eyes. "I… s-sorry, it's just-"

"It's okay." Chloe does her best to flash a smile as she places her hand on Max's shoulder. "I…"

Her sentence hangs as she doesn't actually know what to say. She shrugs and holds up her fake smile instead.

"Let's go," Max murmurs and pushes herself off the truck, jumping inside.

Chloe stays outside for another minute to take a few deep breaths, calm herself down, clear her head and all that.

. . .

At night Chloe watches as Max cuddles up to the blanket she'd been given. Her hair disheveled, dirty, and her eyes holding great bags underneath them; almost like Max hadn't slept in days.

Chloe thinks as she stares.

"I don't regret my choice."

It's a whisper, but it's loud enough for her to hear.

"I said you're my number one priority. I meant that."

That gives her some comfort, however small.

"Why?" she asks even though she already knows the answer; she needs confirmation.

"Why?" Max looks up and gazes at her. "This is why."

Chloe holds her close as their lips meet. Soft at first, the kiss moves on as Max pushes into it, her trembling hands moving up Chloe's cheeks and into her azure locks, gripping tight; afraid that the girl she'd saved would just disappear then and there.

"I love you, okay?" Max murmurs when they move apart, her eyes piercing Chloe. "I don't m-mean as a friend, a best friend or whatever. I love you and I won't allow the universe to keep us apart."

It's poetic, sappy even, but Chloe listens and nods afterwards.

"Okay," she whispers back, content with the fact that she was right for once.

They fall asleep cuddling on the bench seat of the truck, sharing the one ratty blanket that Chloe had found in the back.

. . .

Eventually it becomes clear where Chloe is driving them.

"LA?" Max asks as they pass the road signs. "Why?"

Chloe is silent for a few seconds and then shrugs. "I don't know. You didn't want to go to Seattle, so I just… drove in the opposite direction."

Max nods and looks out the window. "Thank you."

She smiles and nods herself. "Just being your chauffeur and faithful companion, like I promised."

"You're more than that," Max reminds her and looks across again. "You're more than that to me Chloe."

Her mouth hangs open before she smiles again. "I know," she whispers to make herself believe that she actually is more than that.

It doesn't feel real, but it is.

. . .

When the truck finally rolls to a stop in what seems like forever, the sunset already lazes over the horizon and coats the quiet waves of the ocean in an orange hue.

Chloe jumps out of the truck and takes Max's hand into her own, leading her forward, away from the confined space of the cabin they'd spent the last couple days in.

"It's… beautiful," Max whispers as they stand near the edge of the water, hands held together. "I…"

Her words fail her as she closes her eyes and just finally settles down to think about things. About everything. About Arcadia, her choice, about everyone she'd condemned to death by tearing up the photo of that damn blue butterfly.

"It's okay," Chloe murmurs into her ear as she presses her against her chest.

When the weight of it all hits her she feels terrible.

So many people dead.

Max sobs for the first time since the cliff, her face buried deep in Chloe's jacket as she holds on.

A few heads turn towards the brunette crying in the arms of the blue-haired punk, but most don't think much of it.

When she runs out of tears, she tries to force them forward, tries to continue sobbing because she doesn't know what to do anymore. They're not in Arcadia anymore, the storm is gone, her scholarship is gone, her friends are gone.

What _now?_

"What now?" she repeats, her voice hoarse and muffled against Chloe.

"We… m-move on," she mumbles as she doesn't know herself.

Max shakes her head but doesn't say anything.

"Hey, look," Chloe shakes her gently and turns her towards the sunset. "Isn't this like that perfect opportunity thing all you photographers go on about? Golden Sunset or something?"

She snorts as she wipes her eyes. "Golden Hour, dork."

"Yeah, Golden Hour, that's it."

Chloe holds her close and Max presses back against her.

They're together. They're alive.

Yet the guilt is there too, together and alive with them.

It'll be a long road to recovery, but there's _hope._

* * *

 **A/N:**

Hi.

This is the first part of a large series of one-shots I have planned that span a post-sacrifice Arcadia timeline.

After like a million fluffy AU's, I kinda wanted to revisit the roots of the game and write something angsty/dark/hurt-filled again, so here it is! Lots of topics are going to be touched upon, some not as pleasant as others - there will be fluff in the future but for now... there ain't none. Dealing with things, y'know? It's gonna be slow.

I need to get back into the swing of things.

I'll keep the notes limited for future parts of this series.

Like always I love y'all and thanks for your continued support!

\- :) WinTTY


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